Heaven showers its sympathetic tears-
Kissing Nature once again,
Trees, flowers and mountains celebrate
Having a merry go round with the wind-

It halts and the breeze comes sweeping
Dusting little fellows that it sees
The river cries a flood of tears
Like unhappy, swollen farmers from the fields
All their treasures gone
Like minced tiny diamonds undone

They tiptoe in the sand
Plopping into their own bodies
Creating a perfect accompaniment,
Whispering but sometimes
concert of drums and yellow alloys-

A Pitter-patter of
Created under the rhythm of
Heaven’s sympathetic tears.

(the sky is a downcast portrait of myself-
just had a salty share of its tears)

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